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You know the best thing, for me, about reading (or rereading) a fanfic you really love? It's not that thing that X did to Y with Z in the infirmary, though that was pretty hot, wasn't it? It's just--a really good fanfiction will change the way you think about canon, just a little. It adds to your understanding of canon, makes you love it in a slightly different way, gives you ideas. Reminds you why you ended up in fandom in the first place.
And of course the thing with the thing in the infirmary. That was excellent.
:::
I went to see Brokeback Mountain in Atlanta with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sisterliz this past weekend, and while we were eating lunch and anticipating, I was thinking about going to the movies in New Orleans, where for a blockbuster sort of film you had to buy your tickets in advance and queue up in a huge snaky line at least an hour before the show if you didn't want to sit in the front row with your neck craned uncomfortably for a couple of hours. Life isn't like this in Macon, where no one really goes to the movies at all except on Friday and Saturday nights, so that even an opening-weekend Sunday matinee of, say, GoF, is really sparsely populated, and if you go during the week, well, sometimes you have the theater all to yourself.
I was thinking of this, and I even mentioned it tosisterliz, but for some reason musing over this phenomenon did not lead to my thinking, Hey, here we are in a big city! This movie is only showing at one cinema in a town with a thriving gay community so maybe we should see about getting some tickets ahead of schedule. Oh no, we blithely poked around town until we got to the theater and discovered that everyone with an interest in that film within a 100-mile radius of Atlanta was seeing it that day, and that all features on both screens were sold out until late at night, and so we decided to be depressed in an entirely different way and saw Syriana instead, a film which holds the distinction of being absolutely the most cynical I've ever seen.
Oh you city folk. Don't you have anything better to do on a rainy afternoon than gawk at gay cowboys in love?
:::
The Pavlovian conditioning I've been receiving lately in the guise of an unstraightforward transfer of real estate is proceeding apace. Closing has been moved to January 5. Watch me salivate as that freaking bell rings, again. Will I ever learn?
And of course the thing with the thing in the infirmary. That was excellent.
:::
I went to see Brokeback Mountain in Atlanta with
sisterliz this past weekend, and while we were eating lunch and anticipating, I was thinking about going to the movies in New Orleans, where for a blockbuster sort of film you had to buy your tickets in advance and queue up in a huge snaky line at least an hour before the show if you didn't want to sit in the front row with your neck craned uncomfortably for a couple of hours. Life isn't like this in Macon, where no one really goes to the movies at all except on Friday and Saturday nights, so that even an opening-weekend Sunday matinee of, say, GoF, is really sparsely populated, and if you go during the week, well, sometimes you have the theater all to yourself.I was thinking of this, and I even mentioned it to
sisterliz, but for some reason musing over this phenomenon did not lead to my thinking, Hey, here we are in a big city! This movie is only showing at one cinema in a town with a thriving gay community so maybe we should see about getting some tickets ahead of schedule. Oh no, we blithely poked around town until we got to the theater and discovered that everyone with an interest in that film within a 100-mile radius of Atlanta was seeing it that day, and that all features on both screens were sold out until late at night, and so we decided to be depressed in an entirely different way and saw Syriana instead, a film which holds the distinction of being absolutely the most cynical I've ever seen.Oh you city folk. Don't you have anything better to do on a rainy afternoon than gawk at gay cowboys in love?
:::
The Pavlovian conditioning I've been receiving lately in the guise of an unstraightforward transfer of real estate is proceeding apace. Closing has been moved to January 5. Watch me salivate as that freaking bell rings, again. Will I ever learn?
